Roatan was one island we were so looking forward to visiting. Guanaja to the east and Utila to the west are much smaller islands with less people, and less to do, so we thought that Roatan would be our paradise in Honduras. Unfortunately, we arrived at a challenging time and didn’t have the opportunity to fully explore or appreciate this gem of the Caribbean. Challenges revolved around wild weather, a lack of rally cohesiveness, and the need to move on to Belize to pick up guests.

Back in Maine, we met Elvert, a young man who grew up on Roatan and now works in New England. He graciously informed us about places to anchor, scuba dive, eat, fix boats, and find transportation. We shared his emails with all of the rally members and we tried to coordinate dive trips and excursions with Elvert’s many relatives and acquaintances.

Winds howled every night and sometimes throughout the day as well, which made scuba diving and other adventures less appealing, and also caused us to be nervous about leaving Alembic at anchor. Several boats dragged their anchors, one causing a collision with their neighbor.

Twenty-six rally boats were becoming scattered about many islands at this point, as weather, guest arrivals, and boat repairs were creating different needs and interests. We ranged from Providencia, Guanaja, Utila, Guatemala, and Belize, and three boats have already left us to transit the Panama Canal for the Pacific.

Bill and I had begun to feel pressed for time, as we have guests arriving in Belize next week, so we had to sail away before we could follow through on our hopes for Roatan.

While weather and scattered rally boats limited our activities, we certainly enjoyed what we could see and do. To start off, our sail from Guanaja to Roatan was glorious. James, a British gentleman who has lived on these two islands for a few years, was flying home to the UK and needed a lift to Roatan. He had never sailed before, and was lucky enough to transit on a perfect weather window; the calm before the storm!

Anchoring in French Cay Harbor was like being in Grand Central Station! Mini ferry boats zoomed back and forth every ten minutes, carrying people and horses!! to Fantasy Island. During our five day stay, three boats were towed into the anchorage in distress as they lost steering or engines in the waves just outside the entrance reefs. One morning we tried to assist a sailboat on the reef, but even with the four dinghies, we could not begin to help. The seas were huge and our dinghies were almost flipping just trying to get near them. Luckily, their anchor held until a tow boat came to haul them in.

Nature abounds on this island near French Cay Harbor. There is an Iguana Farm where Iguanas are free to roam and have thrived on the visitors’ offerings of fruit and vegetables.

Bill and I brought our compost bucket and shared papaya, banana, carrot, and pumpkin peels. Friendly monkeys jump around in the trees just above your head at the beach area. They love to bang on the outdoor shower nozzle, telling you to turn it on, so they can drink or play in the clear water. Interesting rodents, which look like huge shiny rats with no tails, wander about everywhere, hoping you’ll toss them food. And bird life is prolific; I wish I knew the names of half of them.

Easter was a special day on Roatan. Our best laid plans to attend a service didn’t work out as we had intended. Getting to shore by dinghy in the wild winds, redressing on the dock into dry clothes, climbing up the hill, and sitting down in the church, all went smoothly with a lot of laughs with fellow cruisers. Then we found out that the 9 o’clock service was a children’s bible study, and the service wouldn’t start until 10:30. We had a mini bus to catch at 11 with the rally members to spend the rest of the day celebrating at the West End. Bummer; the service didn’t fit into our plans. “No worries,” said Claire and James, “we will have our own service aboard Ocean Rainbow!” And that we did. Prayers for all of our loved ones, bible readings, and plenty of hymns, filled my heart with Easter love. Claire is excellent with the guitar and James, being a retired British General, is perfect for all things formal.

When the winds calmed enough for us to leave Alembic for a longer period, we rented scooters with friends and drove around the island. We found such a variety of sights.

Extremely poor neighborhoods mixed in with gorgeous high end resorts. We stopped for lunch at a sweet spot, with a tiki hut dangling over the ocean off a small pier. The huge pig lounged in the sand beneath the only table on shore. This was a perfect last day on Roatan. We will have to come back to more fully explore this beautiful island.

Cay and George will be arriving in a week, so we need to take advantage of the weather window to sail on to Utila, then Belize.

Sailing to Guanaja took some planning. There have been incidents of pirates off the coast of Nicaragua and Honduras. People are so poor there; they resort to boarding passing boats to steal stuff. We have heard theft reports of many items, even toilet paper. While we would love to help some of these struggling fellow humans, we don’t feel safe having them come aboard Alembic while we are sailing. Precautions we took were to sail at least twenty miles off the coast, sail in the company of others, and limit our communications on the VHF.

Claudio, on Makani, showed us how to plot the exact locations of the other boats using MMSI numbers on our VHF. If you don’t transmit an AIS signal (we don’t), or you turn this function off to be invisible to pirates, you can still see where your buddy boats are without voicing your latitude and longitude positions on VHF. We kept pinging them in the night to see where they were. Luckily, this pinging was inaudible to them.

Most of the 370 miles was blissfully calm, too calm, as we drifted at about 3 knots for two days. Two of the boats were purists and rarely use their motors, and the wind could barely move us. Our Swiss friends’ position was always exactly on our course line, while our British friends were all over the place. We called them our wayward children, as they let Humphrey, their wind vane, steer the boat. When the wind shifted, so did Ocean Rainbow. Funniest of all, our friends from Belgium sailed in circles because they had trouble slowing down to stay with the rest of us!

Finally, the winds picked up about seventy miles from our destination. Be careful what you wish for: we were wishing for more wind and we were given a gale. Luckily, the winds were from astern. We had sustained 35 knots, 40 in gusts, with huge seas that sometimes crested and broke right over our heads, into the cockpit. Sleeping in the night was not very successful, but we were happy to be moving along quickly. Alembic arrived at Guanaja before daylight, so we had to heave to (a maneuver to slow the boat down) and await the sunrise in order to make it through the reefs. The Caribbean has almost zero navigation buoys, so you rely on your eyes to weave through shallow spots.

Glorious arrival! Perhaps it was the relief to get out of the seas; perhaps it was the scenery; perhaps it was the anticipation of exploring a new spot. We were energized. Dropping anchor right off the tiny island which was home to 85 percent of all inhabitants of Guanaja, Bill went ashore to clear customs while I stayed aboard and tidied up Alembic.

Guanaja, Honduras, was one of our favorite places so far. Snorkeling was excellent right beside the anchorage, hiking was spectacular, and the people were delightful. Locals spoke so many languages. Creole, a mixture of Spanish, English, and Jamaican Patois, was the most common. We met many expats here. A German couple ran Manati, an excellent restaurant at the shore of the anchorage, and another German, Hans, ran another restaurant which specialized in pizza from his outdoor wood fire and his homemade wine. An American owned a huge island with a luxury home. Several more restaurants were sprinkled around the hills surrounding the harbor. There are no cars anywhere in Guanaja, so foot paths led us to many special spots.

Our anchorage was mercifully sheltered from the huge seas and winds that piped up every night. We slept beautifully every night, and enjoyed the mild weather days. Even the day of rain was welcomed; we finally washed the salt from the boat and filled our water tanks with its bounty. We could have stayed here for a month and called it home, but we had to move on. Guests are arriving in Belize soon. So off we go to Roatan, another island of Honduras.

 

March 8th is a special day. Thank you, Barbie and Ben and the universe for bringing Bill here. Celebrating his arrival was especially fun this year. This spectacular morning rainbow arcing over Alembic promised us a good day.

Renting a moto (a motor scooter) allowed us to explore all of Providencia. We arrived here the day before and were eager to see the many beautiful destinations. We drove or hiked down to every beach and poked our heads into the many simple restaurants. Roland’s was a perfect choice for us to stop for lunch. Here we enjoyed a magnificent meal of grilled King while we watched a horse swim with its master and locals fly off a rope swing into the water.

After lunch, we found mangroves growing in a bright pink water which is a naturally occurring phenomenon. Locals gave us mixed answers as to why this happens. Some said it is high in iron, others said the orchids cause this, and still more were sure that the roots of the mangroves leach this color when the water levels get too low. More research is needed here by me.

Back in town, we had an amusing experience getting our Yellow Fever shots. Admittedly, this isn’t a great birthday activity, but we actually have been looking for months now, so getting the shots and the proof card was actually a gift. We have found clinics which offer the shots, but don’t give the proof cards. Cards are necessary for admittance into some countries and we don’t want to be refused! With no fee and no waiting, and smiles as the only language, this visit was quick and simple.

The young man spoke not a word of English, and we not a word of medical Spanish. This could never happen in the US. Liabilities are a show stopper there. If anyone is allergic to eggs, too old, or possibly sick, they shouldn’t get this shot, and clinics would never deliver without these and many other questions. The simplicity in Colombia has its advantages.

To top off the day, we had a lovely dinner at Miss Lucy’s with three other couples who live on their boats. No rally members are in this harbor yet, so we are enjoying meeting new people.

The cake I made in the morning, using fresh pumpkin and red wine, was adorned with silly candles that the waitress scored. She shouted into the street to flag down a friend on a passing moto and asked him to go find candles. After back and forth shouting, and a ten minute space of time, two candles, reading the number ten, arrived on the cake! Typical for cruising: never exactly what you expect, but fabulous improvisation results.

We dinghied back to Alembic in the dark, happy, full, tired, and ready for another good year.

Being in the Panama Canal is mind-blowing. The history of its construction, the enormous expense, the complexity of its operation, it’s all magic. First, our rally took a bus and train trip along the canal that lasted three days. Then Bill and I joined a German catamaran and helped them transit. All of this occurred while Alembic sat securely tied to a dock in Shelter Bay Marina, Colon. Maybe someday we will take her through.

Our rally trip started with a bus tour through the San Lorenzo Forest and Fort. We saw sloths, snakes, toucans, Solo Cats (more like a raccoon), monkeys, and interesting plants. The San Lorenzo Fort was a magnificent structure with layers of pirate, canal, and Panamanian history. A women in the Canal Center gave us a thorough explanation of the history and construction of the locks as well as the plans to open the new wider, deeper locks.

After the bus tour, traveling along the canal by train gave us a close up view of the canal and lake system. We could see the devastating effects of El Niño; stubs of trees which have been submerged for one hundred years are now standing a foot or two above the surface of the man made Lake Gatun. This lake supplies the water to fill the locks to lower the ships down to the ocean. If this lake gets any lower, the canal may have to close. Basically, the lake is 85 feet above both the Atlantic and the Pacific, fills with rainwater, and dumps it into the three locks on either side to raise and lower the ships. When the locks open, the lake water dumps into the ocean. So for every ship that passes, precious lake water is lost. We need more rain to fill the lake so this operation can continue.

Money can buy anything, even rain, right? Maybe. The ships are paying a huge fee to transit this canal. Some pay over a half million dollars to make this trip. Their cost is so high because they fill the entire lock by themselves, not sharing the lake water, and they need pilots to come aboard the ship for guidance, and locomotives, with drivers on each, to center and propel them through each lock. If we take Alembic through, it would be more like $1500. This fee covers an advisor to be aboard to give instructions, borrowed long lines to reach up to people walking along the locks on both sides, and at least eight huge borrowed buoys to keep you from scraping the cement sides of the canal or other boats you may be tied to. Alembic could go through the canal with a raft of four boats wide, and ten of these rafts could fit in each lock to share the lake water.

After the bus and train rides, our rally arrived in Panama City just in time to check into our fancy hotel, the Waldorf Astoria, and head out for dinner. We chose a spunky Beirut restaurant that surprised us with Belly dancers circling our table throughout the meal!

Walking around Panama City the next day was a cultural experience. We were shocked at how modern the city is, yet you could still find Kunas selling molas, and fishermen selling their catch on the streets.

We returned to Alembic to make final preparations for sailing north to Providencia. Disassembling and lubricating the winches was more of a chore than Bill had anticipated.

We have found that routine maintenance before things break is a worthwhile task, and this one was overdue. I prepped by sewing and traveling to a faraway grocery store for provisions. Alembic was ready to go; but first we were headed to the canal again, this time to help Catarina as line handlers.

Catarina was a 42 foot catamaran with a German Captain and a Maltese Woman as first mate. Graham and Wendy, from Oystermist in our rally, came along too for a wonderful experience. Four line handlers and a captain are required, in addition to the advisor that comes aboard, and having Denise, as the cook and photographer, was an added bonus. We left Shelter Bay Marina early in the afternoon, and entered the canal by evening. Surprisingly, we were not rafted at all, so the four line handlers were needed.

We shared the locks with a huge ship in front of us. While they were connected to cables for centering and propulsion, we were tossed four lines with a monkey’s fist (this is a ball like a tennis ball, tied to the end of the twine) from up high on the canal walls. Each of the four of us took our monkey’s fist, tied it to the heavy long lines and fed it back to the men pulling it up to the bollard. Once the long lines were secured on the bollards, the locks closed, and the water began pouring into our lock. The water level rose almost 30 feet, requiring line handlers to continuously shorten the lines holding Catarina in the center of the lock. At this point, the men at the bollards released our loops and sent our lines back down to us, so they were carrying only the lightweight twine as they walked us (Catarina was under her own propulsion) to the next lock. Once in place at lock number two, we repeated the process, going up another 30 feet. And again for lock number three.

Now, at the level of Gatun Lake, we motored to a huge buoy, where we tied up and said goodbye to Freddie, our advisor. By the time we had dinner and cleaned up, it was already eleven o’clock, so we headed to our berths. Three full private berths are a luxury we are not used to! The luxury ended at 4 am as we heard a loud boat motor up and tie to our buoy too. We thought it was our advisor, ready to begin day 2, but it was just another freighter, readying for a snooze before their continuation of the transit.

Another 3 hours of sleep was welcomed, and we woke refreshed and ready. Francisco, our second day advisor, arrived at 9 and we headed off to motor four hours to reach the next set of locks. Arriving at the locks, we had to wait at least an hour to tie up to Discovery, our raft buddy boat. Line handling was much less exciting for this part of the trip because we simply had to wait for Discovery to tie to the wall, then we tied to Discovery and descended with them. We untied each time the locks opened so that we and Discovery could motor to the next lock independently. The huge ship that came into the locks with us was incredibly slow; they probably didn’t want to crush us! Getting through the three locks with this arrangement of Catarina and Discovery, a tug, and the ship took an hour longer than it was scheduled, and we finally moved through the last opening, into the Pacific, at 8:30 pm.

Catarina’s Captain dropped anchor at Balboa Yacht Club and a launch came to us quickly, taking Bill, Graham, Wendy, and I, along with the four borrowed heavy lines, and 8 huge fenders. We barely had time to say goodbye to this wonderful couple and sweet boat.

The four of us had planned to take a taxi back to our marina this evening, but the lateness, and my broken tooth, helped us decide that we should stay in Panama City one more night. No Waldorf Astoria this time, though; we didn’t want to spend $130 per night or deal with those fancy people! We flopped into comfy chairs, had a few beers, and found a cheap hotel online.

Google maps showed us the next morning that we had chosen the right spot for a hotel. Fifteen dentist offices were within walking distance! Bill and I visited a few of them, made an appointment for noon, and thanked our lucky stars that this appointment was cheap, simple, painless, and quick. A filling had fallen out while we were leaving Catarina, and replacing it was easy, but necessary.
Oberto, our cab driver, was a bit inexperienced, and charged the four of us much less than most cabbies to take us back to the marina. While only 45 miles, waiting for bridge openings to cross the Panama Canal and dealing with the gigantic potholes, the trip took almost 3 hours. We tipped him well and he seemed grateful.

Stepping aboard Alembic brought that Home Sweet Home feeling. We love this boat, and being away from her for two nights again was tough. Since she was prepped for offshore, we had one last snooze at the marina, and untied the next morning. Setting sails again, and heading north for a two day passage was wonderful. Off to Providencia!

Two harbors worth visiting between the San Blas Islands and the Panama Canal are Isla Linton and Portobello. The sail to Isla Linton was about 50 miles and only ten more to Portobello. Both are part of Panama, so no clearing in and out was necessary. We have found clearing in and out of every port to be expensive and challenging. Most places take your passports for a day or more and getting them back means finding the person who has them. We are a bit spoiled because Suzanne, our rally leader, often arranges for this to be done as a group. Once, in Santa Marta, we left port without them because they took so long, and Suzanne arranged for them to be delivered to our next port, Cartagena. We would never have risked this if we were on our own.

The sail to Isla Linton was wonderful, but the swells were huge. Shamal, sailing beside us, kept getting swallowed up by the swells. Once we all arrived, the harbor was quite full with so many rally boats; other cruisers hadn’t seen so many boats in one place but welcomed us to the group. Onshore, there wasn’t much to do in the tiny town, but exploring by dinghy was great fun. Our first day, we traveled down a mangrove tunnel to another anchorage, Panamarina, and enjoyed a French restaurant, and on the second day, we hiked to a rickety old lighthouse on Isla Grande, a nearby island which was close enough to reach by dinghy.

Staying in the safety of our dinghy one evening, we watched monkeys frolic. They have developed a reputation of being overly friendly, so we didn’t go ashore near the abandoned home they have taken over. It was hilarious to see monkeys hanging out on the porch, coming and going through windows, as if they were having a party. Seeing them walk so rigidly upright, with tails straight up, made me think they were marionettes. I was surprised to see them scoop salt water with their hands and drink it while they hung from branches dangling over the water. Developing the ability to tolerate the salt is impressive; I wish I could do this.

Bill has not developed the ability to tolerate drinking saltwater, or maybe he just hasn’t tried, but he has proven to be able to tolerate man-o-war stings. While swimming near Alembic, Bill suddenly switched directions and headed quickly back toward our boat. Not knowing why he made this turn, I followed, aware that something was amiss. We climbed into our dinghy and began pulling tentacles from the man-o-war off his legs and arms. He had so many wrapped around him; I couldn’t believe I didn’t get caught up in this, swimming so close to him. The stinging began as soon as the tentacles hit him, and continued to sting for a few hours. Even though the tentacles were gone, they left fine pink tracks which within an hour turned into inch wide paths of goose bumps which were cold and wet to the touch. Weird. Cortisone and aloe relieved the sting somewhat and he was fine the next morning.

Next stop, Portobello, was a wonderful, historic harbor known for its pirates, music, theater, and Christo Negro (Black Christ). The harbor is large and deep, perfect for many galleons to anchor and bring or steal vast quantities of gold.

Huge forts were built to try to stop the pirates from repeatedly raiding the Spaniards here. Much of the music and theater revolves around the marauders. Even the Christo Negro is central to much drama when they bring the statue out for new outfits and parades.

A long bus ride to Nuevo Colon was only $1.80 and provided lively entertainment, as it stopped every 200 yards to collect more people, packing us in to a point where you couldn’t move your arms. We were wedged in so tightly, that we didn’t budge even when the driver sped up and flew around tight turns. No seat belts needed for this old school bus ride!

Unfortunately, the snorkeling was only mediocre due to the huge swells stirring up the water, but Casper, our ten year old rally member, speared his first fish, making our explorations well worthwhile. Our next stop, Shelter Bay Marina in Colon, would be less ideal for snorkeling as we heard there was a resident crocodile wandering about the boats! This I was looking forward to seeing, but from the safely of a dock.

My favorite moments at Portobello were meeting and reuniting with foreign friends. A French family with four girls under ten came aboard one day. What an outgoing bunch! They are overlanders, traveling the globe in a VW van, which has been shipped from Europe to the US and to South America. Their next stop, Fiji and the South Pacific, is too far to ship their sweet home, so they will rent an alternate for this section of travel. Each family member was eager to learn about our unique lifestyle in their own way. Even the youngest, only two, explored the boat with wide eyes while her sisters went on a treasure hunt to “find the refrigerator, the toilet, the silverware, and the ukulele”. And reuniting with Daniel and Drika was a pleasure. We met them in Santa Marta, again in Cartagena, and we always hoped to visit with them again. Something about Drika… she inspired me to think deeply about health, food, yoga, languages, family, and many more things. Lounging on the bow of her boat and taking in her benevolent perspective on life has warmed my heart to a new level.

Now, off to our next adventure: to the Panama Canal!

Knowing we had less than a week left to explore this magnificent archipelago of the San Blas Islands, we headed off westward, toward Ensenada Mandinga, deep in the Gulf of the San Blas, the most western of the islands. With howling winds and an 8 foot swell, we flew along with only a reefed jib (our most forward sail was partially rolled up to make it small). As we rounded Ubicandup, our planned destination, we marveled at this beautiful island, almost submerged by the breaking waves. All of the homes, made of reeds and palm fronds, were getting slashed with salt water. These are hardy people.

Not feeling as hardy as the Guna here, we decided that the anchorage would be far too rolly for comfort, so we carried on past a few more islands to find a completely protected spot to settle for the next few days. Only two boats were in sight, other than the dozens of ulus: one catamaran resting at anchor while the owners were traveling inland, and another sailboat which left soon after we arrived, leaving us the only cruisers in the whole bay.

Within an hour, we had five visitors, coming by ulus. Armando offered us bananas, Barna passed us a juicy papaya, Breddio came to offer us a guided trip into the forest, another guy offered us fish, and a sweet young girl paddled up for curiosity. The fresh food cost less than five dollars, and would last us many days.

Breddio and his ten year old son, Freddie, had been sailing about the harbor, with Freddie hiked out on a trapeze made of a piece of strapping attached to the top of his mast made of a tree branch. They were traveling at very high speeds, tacking expertly in their leaky dugout canoe. Gunas could win any sailing competition, I am convinced. And the curious girl shyly paddled toward us, but didn’t grab onto our boat the way all of the others had. I tried to speak to her in Guna and Spanish, but she barely responded. When I asked if the two babies in the front of her ulu could swim, she shook her head “No!” I offered them a Solo cup of milk “leche” and the older of the two, gleefully nodded approvingly. Since the paddling girl (Mom?) was too far back to reach them without tipping the canoe, I climbed into the water with the cup, and passed it to the outstretched arms of the two year old. She took a huge gulp before carefully pressing the cup to the lips of the one year old. She adeptly braced the younger baby with a hand on her back as she held the cup with her other hand. Both babies shared happily as the girl smiled and paddled away. I wanted with all my heart to take a photo of this lovely scene, but I respected the Gunas’ desire to have no photos, and left my camera in its case.

We were welcomed ashore by many community members who helped us tie up the dinghy. On the water’s edge, they were preparing a fruit press that would begin operation the following day. A Coming of Age ceremony was planned for a girl, and the beverage would be a large part of this celebration. The pressing and fermenting process takes more than a week. Women came out of their huts to offer their molas and other beaded artwork. Bill caved and bought me a bracelet. He has a harder time saying no than I do sometimes!

Construction of a building on stilts seemed out of place: the man working on it was very well dressed, unlike any other Guna I have met, the materials were of sturdy lumber, not branches chopped in the forest by machetes, and chain linked fences lined the deck. Progress! And Who is ruining this island?! Bantered back and forth in my head. We introduced ourselves to the gentleman builder and he explained that he was a Guna from another island and was building a school for young children. The chain link fence would keep the youngsters from falling into the water! This construction had some religious affiliation, but our limited language proficiency prevented us from understanding much more.

Breddio seemed to approve of the project, so I let go any judgements. How dare I claim to know what is best for the Gunas. They are the inhabitants here, so they should be the ones to judge. Breddio seemed to be well informed about all historical progress and future plans for this island group. Mark my words: he will be a Saila (Chief/Island leader) someday. For now, though, he is focusing on his family, two boys and a girl with albinism. We have met many people in the San Blas who have this condition, which some say is caused by too much inbreeding. Regardless, the individuals seem to be treated just like everyone else, despite their white hair, pink skin, and pale eyes.

Our forest tour was informative; Breddio shared his knowledge of Guna culture and farming habits while pointing out the names of every tree and wild creature we saw. He is such a generous man, truly embracing all cultures as he meets so many foreigners. And foreigners have embraced him in return, even paying his way for a flight and two week stay in France! I tried to imagine this small indigenous man strolling the streets of Paris and dining at fine restaurants. He is the epitome of willingness to embrace all humanity.

Breddio’s wife washed our clothes. Washing clothes aboard Alembic is a challenge with our limited water and crazy clothes lines strung up in the rigging. Employing the Gunas helps them inch along. Unfortunately, the clothes were not exactly clean when we picked them up. The entire island had a haze of woodsmoke from all of the families trying to dry their sea-sprayed homes, and our clothes, hanging on the line, collected this aroma. We will be reminded of this sweet family and their lovely community as we sniff our still-smokey clothes for weeks to come!

After bringing sunscreen for Breddio’s daughter, we reluctantly said our goodbyes, and dinghied back to Alembic to prepare for departure. The wind was still blowing a near gale, but we had to get back to the Lemmon Cays for a party and to bring our starter motor to Projection, a boat which was stranded with minimal hope of getting out of the San Blas. While everyone loves the lovely people and scenery, we all recognize that we might as well be in outer space, with the lack of any banks, groceries or nautical supplies. All you can find in the San Blas is locally grown or caught food, and oodles of molas. So, we raised anchor, crawled between the islands and reefs until we were back in the open sea, then crashed our way through wind and waves back to the delightful anchorage at Banedup.

Mark and Lilly on Projection we very happy to see us sail into the anchorage and dinghied over to collect our spare starter. Within a few minutes they called back on the VHF to say “can you hear that sweet sound of the engine running?!” Replacing a starter is one of the simplest tasks and such a critical item to have as a spare. I must admit that I felt we had a 50/50 chance of ever seeing our spare again, but Bill was sure we would meet them again in Shelter Bay Marina in a few weeks and they would return our part, having arrived safely where they could buy their own spare. My doubts revolved around the ridiculous expense of this part. Clever Bill found this starter as an aftermarket part for only $67, but a new one at a Yanmar dealer costs closer to $600, and in Panama?? Who knows?

After preparing a seafood dish with the lobster and crab we bought from the Saila the previous day, we cleaned up, donned some of our smokey clothes, and headed for shore for a Valentine’s Party with the rally. The potluck meal was marvelous but the hilarious games and dances prepared by members of our rally were even more remarkable. Celebrating Valentine’s Day, appreciating our last day in the San Blas, and playing these crazy games, all made me recognize that this journey is so packed full of amazing experiences and emotions, I could hardly contain my own thoughts.

Leaving Mamitupu was difficult. We followed our track that brought us carefully into the harbor, which made navigation easy, but our hearts were somewhere on the island still. The children, mothers, Pablo and the rest of the Kuna Coco men had all captured a piece of us. Jacinta raising her voice and almost shouting in Guna “I make so many friends and they always leave. They promise to come back and they never do!” while sitting in our cockpit, has left a permanent impression on my heart.

We hope to come back and maybe we will… But I didn’t make any promises…

We sailed a very challenging course through reefs to get to Snug Harbor again. We could have gone north of the whole area, which would have added only an hour to the trip, but the challenge was appropriate. It gave us something to concentrate on while we refocused our thoughts and built up the desire to cruise onward.

In Snug Harbor, we were greeted by Rally friends and two other cruising sailboats, which was a perfect welcome back to cruising with gringos. Quiet evenings back on Alembic, however, were full of conversations about our next venture away from the group and back into more Guna Yala (the land of the Guna Indians). Our next adventure would be deep into the Gulf of the San Blas, the islands furthest west of this archipelago. But first, a few more rally adventures.

We sailed back to Green Island for the Sunday Picnic organized by our intrepid leader of the rally, Suzanne. Arriving there to find the anchorage already packed with rally boats, kite surfing charter boats, and plenty of other cruisers, was disconcerting. There appeared to be no place left to drop anchor. Of course this wasn’t true, but we were frustrated as we dragged our anchor across the hard ocean floor a few places before we found a spot that was protected from the incessant wind, shallow enough for our length of anchor chain, and soft enough ground to dig our anchor in.

Unfortunately, we heard a bump in the night, though. Panic struck me awake in a flash. It’s amazing how you can be sound asleep one moment and running around deck the next. We probably only touched a small sand bump beneath our keel, but my thoughts jumped to Alembic getting stuck in the mud and no one able to pull us off. There is almost no tide to help us rise up, and no rescue boats like you see everywhere in the US and even in the Bahamas. Instead of running the engine and re-anchoring, we just shortened our anchor chain, pulling us closer to the anchor, which we knew was in 35 feet of water. We would reset the anchor in the morning when the sun was up.

Anchoring in the San Blas is challenging because many of the islands are very tiny and we all want to huddle behind these to be out of the wind. Reefs provide excellent blocks to keep the large Caribbean Sea swell out of the anchorage, but they also create hazards to go aground as so many of them are just below the surface. Finding a place to set the anchor is tricky because you don’t want to damage any coral with your anchor or your long chain, and many areas are very hard, almost like cement, which is useless for anchoring. You have to find soft sand, mud, or light grass in depths of 8 to 20 feet. The depths are so different from the Bahamas, which was generally all less than 20 feet. Here in the San Blas, you find the islands and reefs often have drop offs, going to well over 100 feet in a distance of only 20 feet! You have to set out five times as much chain length as your depth, to have a proper angle for holding your boat in place. Less than this can cause you to drag. Of course, you must add more in a lot of wind, and can use less for a quick lunch stop.

Once settled, we enjoyed the snorkeling, the beach party, and the general shenanigans of fellow cruisers at Green Island. We continued with bonfires to burn trash, and more excellent snorkeling at the Coco Bandero Cays the following day, and Cambombia the next.

From Cambombia, we sailed back east to Rio Azucar to buy water. Bill and I are conservative with water, using only 7 gallons per day, and could easily make it to Shelter Bay in ten days with what we had on board, but we thought topping off is easy, an adventure, and an extra precaution in case we, or someone else, may need more water. We use salt water to bathe, wash dishes, and clean the boat, giving all a fresh water rinse to wash away salt. Probably most of our fresh water is used for drinking, as we are always thirsty in this heat!

Rio Azucar was easy to sail to, but challenging to get water. When we arrived, there was a small Colombia freighter, delivering goods, at the only dock. We knew that they sometimes stayed tied up for hours, so we anchored nearby. As soon as we dropped anchor, we watched a catamaran arrive and tie right up to the freighter! We realized that the man shouting from shore when we arrived had been telling us to do this. Ah, live and learn. So, Bill rowed our dinghy four times to shore, filled our gerry jugs, and returned to Alembic to fill our tanks. Meanwhile, I wandered the island looking for fresh veggies, only finding eggs aboard the freighter. For $20 and a few hours of labor, our tanks were full, we had 30 eggs on board, and we set off west again.

Leaving Rio Azucar, we headed for Salardup, on the western end of the Naguargandup Cays, near Gorgidupdummat. Gotta love the names here in the San Blas! Tupu and dup mean island in Guna, while dummat means small. Gringos or other non-Gunas have renamed most of them (like Corazon de Jesus is really Akuanusatupu) which seems unjust, kinda like the renaming of immigrants as they cleared into Ellis Island. Just because we can’t pronounce it, doesn’t give us any right to change a name. There is history and love woven into every name.

After enjoying the splendid snorkeling at Salardup, we headed once more to a community of Gunas where cruisers rarely go. I’ll save this for my next post. It was too special to tag it to the bottom of this week’s report.

Ciao! (Everyone says this, Italians, Latinos, Gunas, and now me!)

As Bill and I revel in the paradise called the San Blas Islands, the locals are in turmoil and could potentially cause distress with the cruisers after we depart next week. We have met many locals and have found them to be extremely peaceful, nature-loving, and culturally rich people. But they are poor and the Panamanian government keeps increasing fees that impact them greatly. The San Blas are officially part of Panama, but Panama agreed, back in 1925, to allow the Gunas to govern themselves.

One man we met has a great business idea, but cannot act on it unless he gets the okay from the Guna Chief of his village, and is prepared to swallow the fees from the Panamanian tax structure. He has been told maybe next year… Women struggle to make ends meet with selling Molas to Panama and cruisers. Again, Panama is applying more taxes… And the taxes on water and other living expenses are going up.

Gunas know that they have a gem of a cruising ground and want to capitalize on this to earn more money. They have proposed to increase cruising fees to $20 per foot per month, starting Feb 15, of this year. Panama has not approved of this fee structure, but the Gunas may try to impose it anyway. They have a mini office at Porvenir where they charged us, and all boats, $20 per boat, and $20 per person. We gladly paid the $60 fee, knowing that some refer to this as a “Happy Tax,” to make us, and the Gunas happy. But this new fee would be $840 per month for Alembic, making the San Blas a non-option for us and most other cruisers.

We were planning to leave the San Blas by Feb 19, but now the rally departure is likely Feb 15, to avoid any confrontations. Already, the San Blas officials have been traveling around by small boat, asking people to show their receipt

of payment at Porvenir or to pay the fee if they skipped that step. There is a lot of chatter on VHF, SSB, and other mediums, where people are escalating this and bringing in other panic messages. Some say they are trying to confiscate any scuba gear, as this is illegal in these waters. Others have talked about boardings, where Guna men get on a sailboat uninvited, and demand payments for visitors, scuba gear, or other taxes. Most of these messages are from larger boats, and people trying to conduct charter businesses aboard their vessels.

Sadly, we will be happy to depart. We also would like to return in future years, so we will be monitoring these fees and actions after we have left. My heart goes out to the local Gunas, as they are trying their best to live peacefully in their magical homeland of the San Blas Islands.

We recognize that this is one more example of learning a bit more about a community than first impressions. If I only considered first impressions, I would believe that the Guna Indians lived a carefree life, eating and growing with nature. I now know that they struggle as we all do, with financial and political problems that interfere with progress. My wish for all of humankind is that everyone reach out and help when they can, and be considerate and neighborly with everyone you meet. And be patient; wait for the story to unfold and be a part of the peace that can happen.

The last time we were in Snug Harbor we were the only boat and felt like early discoverers. We could imagine Columbus and the many other adventurers who had come to these islands and recorded their discoveries. This time, only a week later, we were accompanied by six other cruisers. From our rally were Beyzano, Balance, Moody Mistress, Horizons, and Alembic, and two other boats were Lady Elaine from Sweden, and Black ——(I forget the rest of the name) from Bavaria in Germany. The two experiences in Snug Harbor were completely different, both completely enjoyable.

Sören, from Lady Elaine, had been in the San Blas for four months, and had Guna friends nearby. The Gunas were eager to share their beautiful area and culture with us, so Sören arranged a tour into the Rain Forest and throughout the village of Playon Chico afterwards. The two hour hike into the forest was very hot and buggy, but well worth the trip. One of the Guna men, Thomas, was born in Panama City, so he knew some English and could explain details about the plants, burials, animals, and water supply as we passed.

Thomas also shared so many details about his culture as we wandered. I couldn’t help comparing him to Kenny, as he was the same age, and had the same temperament, very friendly and gentle natured. Thomas married at age twenty and already has a 5 and 2 year old, so Kenny has some catching up to do!

After a soaking rain as we left the waterfall, we were escorted to Akin’s set of huts at the far end of the village. He lives with his wife, her sisters, and many children. Just as all Guna women we have met, they set out their art work all over the ground, even though it had just poured and the ground was muddy. I had already purchased 5 molas, so I declined this time. Luckily, one woman in our group bought a few. I had purchased a Guna flag from Akin’s wife the night before, so I felt okay about helping them out financially a bit. My heart breaks every time I decline to buy molas; both because the work is amazing and I would love to have more, and also because I know it is their primary family income. But at $20-$100 each, I can’t afford more!

Walking around with Akin and Thomas, they showed me 7 churches on this tiny island. Many evangelists have come to set up Christian churches and the locals seem okay with this. The original Guna church is not Christian, but they seem to welcome newcomers who help the community. We even met two Mormon missionaries who you could spot from across the island; wearing black pants, a white button down shirt and tie makes you stand out here!

I wish I could have taken a picture of the Guna men working on three ulus. One was nearly complete, while the others were closer to looking as they did, standing in the forest. I didn’t have the camera at the time, and the people don’t like being photographed.

At this point, we decided that we should head back to Alembic, as the downpour we had experienced in the Rain Forest surely must have drenched our cabin. We had left open most of our hatches and were preparing for a long evening of mopping and hanging things to dry. Surprisingly, after our mile long dinghy ride back to Snug Harbor, we found Alembic dry! We see why they call it the Rain Forest. It only rains there!

Sören continued to educate us at Snug Harbor. He arranged a bonfire party, to burn all garbage. Disposal of garbage is a problem in the San Blas. The tiny islands do a poor job of this, often tossing it into the sea. Many Gunas will come to your boat, offer to take your garbage for a dollar, promising to dispose of it properly, only later to be seen throwing the whole bag overboard. Luckily, we and the Gunas don’t produce much garbage, as we eat mostly fresh fish and veggies, and there is minimal access to packaged food or goods. But we all have some, and burning it is the best option. Sören showed us how to gather dead palm fronds and build a thick base layer, place the garbage on and top with more fronds. He also made sure we did not do this on the pristine beaches, which would leave a black scar. Surprisingly, the lush green canopy didn’t burn, or even brown, as our huge bonfire leapt upward. We burned the garbage from our seven boats in a half an hour with zero trace of any remnants, even all plastic was gone.

We will remember Snug Harbor fondly for our many experiences there. Thank you, Sören for making our experience most enjoyable. Hopefully, you will visit us in Maine in your travels.